Through Time
by BadgerLALA
Summary: Sherlock get cursed to an immortal life until he finds the love of his life. This seems impossible for an insensitive and selfish Sherlock. At least not until 200 years later when he meets a certain ex-army doctor named John
1. Prologue

_Autumn 1820_

An elderly woman and her granddaughter were walking along a country road. It was cold, raining heavily and it started to get dark. They pulled their clothes tighter around them but the clothes were so worn they did very little help in the lashing wind. Many of the locals wouldn't be out in such bad weather but the pair of women didn't have any choice because they were poor and had nowhere to stay. They came up to a big mansion which belonged to the wealthy Holmes clan. The women had heard the rumors had it that the young master of the house was an insensitive and selfish man. Their hands and feet were starting to get numb so they had very little choice other than to try their luck at the mansion. Stables or barns, anything would do. They only wished to get some roof over their heard and a dry place to sleep. Also Mr. Holmes couldn't be _that_ heartless that he would send away a pair a women just looking for shelter in this inhospitable weather. They couldn't have been more wrong.

oOo

The Holmes clan was run by the young Sherlock Holmes and not only were the rumors about him wrong - the reality was even worse. Sherlock had a lack of emotions, no one knew why and no one dared to ask. Nevertheless he was a brilliant business man, feared among fellow businessmen. He had an eye for business and which people to trust when it came to deals. It was known Sherlock could only look at a person and tell them their whole life story. What people didn't know was that Sherlock was completely uninterested in business but had a passion for crimes. But it was out of question he ever did anything other than the family business.

oOo

The pair of women had come up to the big oak door. As soon as they had knocked with the brass clapper a maid opened.

"May I help you?" She asked them

"Please do have a warm place for up to stay over night? My grandmother is old and she can't walk much longer" the granddaughter said. The grandmother supported herself on her grandchild.

"No, I'm sorry" the maid said and started to shut the door.

"No, please. I'm begging you!" the granddaughter got in the way so the maid couldn't shut the door.

"Please leave or the master will be furious." The maid said and tried to push the woman away.

"What's all the fuss about? I'm trying to work" a deep man's voice said from inside the house. The maid got all white in her face. It was the master. Soon master Sherlock was up at the door.

"What's this all about?" he furious asked the maid but before she could ask the poor woman with her grandmother talked.

"Please sir. Let me and my grandmother have a warm and dry place to stay over the night. It's the only thing we ask for." The woman begged.

"It's one thing too much for ask for," Sherlock said mad and pushed her out the way with such force that she fell and landed on her back on the top step next to her grandmother.

"Please, sir, don't you have a heart?"

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one. Now leave!" Sherlock said and slammed the oak door shut in front of the women. He made a mad sigh and walked back to his office, glad that he had got rid of the annoying women. But what he didn't know was that the elderly grandmother had watched him all the time without saying a word.

oOo

In the middle of the night Sherlock woke up in his bed, but it didn't feel like he really woke up, it half felt like he was dreaming. Everything felt so surreal. In that moment Sherlock realised he wasn't alone in the room, at the foot of his bed stood the elderly grandmother from before. Sherlock tried to move but his body refused to listen to him, he couldn't speak either.

"It's no use dear" the woman said and walked up to the long side of the bed. "Oh don't look so confused I'm here to teach you a little lesson," she continued while taking out a bowl with something smelly in it. "I had heard you were insensitive and selfish but I didn't for my life think you would deny a pair of cold and wet women a place to stay over night. Seems it's true that you are incapable of any feelings. Well I'll remedy that for you." The woman took out a knife and scratched on his chest just above his heart. She let his blood from her knife drip down in the stinky bowl. The woman added something more to concoction and she whispered something in a different language. While she did this Sherlock looked on her from head to toe, but it was hard, his mind was all blurry. The clothes were worn and old, long skirt, a blouse and a big scarf over her shoulders. A gypsy, maybe? Her hair was long and she had the same blue eyes as her granddaughter. Damn it was hard for Sherlock to think. After a while the woman turned back to him

"I will curse you to an immortal life. You won't be able to grow old and die until you find the love of your life. The feelings must be genuine not only from your side but from the other as well." She chuckled "But right now the odds aren't looking any good for you. You will walk this earth forever as a penalty for your insensibility. The first 40 years won't be so bad but when everything you care for, if there is any, gets old and dies around you, you will see that being immortal won't be a gift but a curse." The woman took a handful of the smelly stuff in her bowl and put it on Sherlock wound on his chest. The pain Sherlock felt was nothing he had felt before. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. When he pain was over he felt very sleepy, he tried to stay away but his eyes got just too heavy. The old woman grinned satisfied and it was this grin Sherlock saw before everything faded out.

oOo

Next time Sherlock woke up the sun was up. It was morning. He sat up and rubbed his forehead. What a strange dream, or was it only a dream? He looked down on his chest. Yes, just above his heart on his chest was a scar. It seemed it hadn't been a dream after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This fic is vaguely inspired by the American series called 'New Amsterdam' I hope you'll like it. Please alert and review :) Also loads of hugs to my new beta reader Aino. :D**


	2. 21st Century Detective

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years and years to decades. Everything and everyone around changed, got old and finally died. Everyone except Sherlock. Sherlock still looked like his young self when he entered the 21st century. It was no question that the gypsy woman's curse had come true. The morning he had woken up after their encounter he had been skeptical that he really was immortal, after all being immortal went against the human nature. Stuff like that belonged to the fairy tales. Sherlock had taken a knife and cut himself on the arm. To his surprise the wound had healed as soon as the blade had stopped touching his skin. It was impossible but clearly it was happening to him. Sherlock had tried to find the woman and her granddaughter but they were nowhere to be found. No one knew who they were or had even heard of them. It was like they just simply had vanished. Sherlock wanted to know who they were but it seemed to be impossible. One time someone told him that they had been beings sent out by God to punish him for his insensibility but that was just rubbish, Sherlock didn't even believe in God.

oOo

The old gypsy woman had told him being immortal would be a curse but surprisingly Sherlock liked it. It gave him a chance leave the family business when time had come and spend all his waking hours with his big passion in life, crimes. After 200 years he had learned everything about the criminal world and its criminals. With his eyes for details and deduction Sherlock was unstoppable. He had given himself title 'Consulting Detective' and he loved it. But there was a setback, over the course of 200 years Sherlock grew bored of ordinary people. If there wasn't a case, Sherlock showed very little interest in people. Compared to him they were boring. Now in the 21st century he had lost his faith in humanity.

oOo

John Watson was an ordinary man. Ordinary if you ignored that he was an ex-army doctor who had served in Afghanistan. After getting shot he had returned to London. If felt strange for him being back there. It was so calm compared to Afghanistan. He missed the thrill of the battle field. John knew he would never feel the same thrill here in London. He was walking down a street in central London at 10 in the morning. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't spend all day in his flat. He heard a sound to his left as he passed an alley. He stopped and turned towards the sound. Just as John turned he saw a man in a long back coat and blue scarf jump down from a two story house into the ally next to a man wearing a black hoodie. Before the man in the hoodie could react he was pushed against the wall by the other man.

"And you thought you were clever enough to get away from the police?" the man in the long coat said while he tried to reach something in his pocket. In that moment he happened to look towards John. The man started to look puzzled. John looked back equally puzzled. There was something about this man in long coat. He didn't know what. It was at this moment the hoodie man saw his chance to escape. The hoodied man had noticed his attacker had got a bit unfocused. He threw his head back so he hit the man in the coat in the face. You heard how his nose cracked and blood started to pour. The man let go of his grip and stumbled backwards. The hoodie man wasn't late in punching his attacker again. John had seen enough he wanted to help the man in the coat. He didn't know why he wanted help this stranger, he just felt he needed to.

oOo

_10 minutes earlier_

Sherlock had been called to the scene of a bank robbery. He and Lestrade stood outside the bank, or it was at least Lestrade that stood still, Sherlock was walking around examining the crime scene.

"He had no descriptions of the robber, just that he wore a black hoodie and mask and no whiteness where he went. We will possibly not get him."  
>"Oh I wouldn't say that Detective Inspector" Sherlock stood up. He had looked on something on the ground but now he looked up a wall.<br>"You found something useful?"  
>"Even better Lestrade," he said and started to climb the fire escape. "I'll catch him. I'll text you when you can pick him up" Sherlock said before he disappeared up on the roof. He started to jump from roof top to roof top. It was the quickest way to catch the bank robber; the streets below were too crowded. Was it dangerous to jump from roof to roof? Yes. Did Sherlock care? No. If Sherlock got injured he would only heal.<p>

Soon Sherlock came to an alley. He looked down. There catching his breath was the robber. He had thrown away (possibly hidden) his weapon, mask and the bag with money earlier to get away from the police. Big mistake. Sherlock grinned. When criminals were stupid it only made his work easy. Sherlock jumped down into the ally next to the man.

Everything had gone perfectly until Sherlock was about put handcuffs on the bank robber. Sherlock had noticed this man looking at him. He was short and had blond hair, clearly an ex-military man. It was something about this man that fascinated Sherlock, but why? Sherlock was never interested in orderly people. When Sherlock was deep in thoughts the robber saw his change. Sherlock's nose broke and he stumbled backwards. After Sherlock got punched again the short man came running. He grabbed the robber and pushed him against the wall with his arm bent up on his back. _Yes, definitely military with that grip_. When the robber was secured Sherlock walked up and put the handcuffs on him. Case closed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes here it is, the next chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it :) Like you see I didn't go with the 'Study in Pink' meeting. Please fav/alert/review. :)**


	3. The Army Doctor

Sherlock knew he could have taken on the bank robber himself. He didn't need any help from anyone but still he was still glad this man had helped him. Sherlock turned and looked at his 'savior', studied him from head to toe. What was it about him that made Sherlock so interested in him? Sherlock looked but couldn't find the answer.

"Are you okay?" John said to Sherlock as Sherlock placed the cuffed bank robber on the ground against the wall.

"I'm fine, Mr…?"  
>"John Watson. But are you sure? I think you'll possibly need to go to the hospital." John looked concernedly at Sherlock. After all he had seen and heard how Sherlock got punched in face a few times. The nose was most likely broken.<p>

"Yes I'm sure. Can I borrow you phone? Mine broke in the fall," Sherlock said to John. Even though Sherlock's face was bloody all the wounds had healed. He didn't need to go to the hospital. Why did this John Watson even care? John looked questioning but he still took up his phone and handed it over to Sherlock.

"Sure. I didn't catch your name."  
>"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said while taking the phone. He was texting Lestrade where he could pick up the bank robber. "So… Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked John without looking up from the phone.<p>

"Afghanistan, but how did you know?" John looked at Sherlock, puzzled. Sherlock just ignored the question and handed John his phone back.

"Now we just need to wait until Lestrade and the Yard pick up the rubbish." Sherlock glared quickly over on the robber at the wall then he turned back to John.

"Right, but I still think someone should take a look at your nose Mr Holmes. At least let me take a look, I'm a doctor." Sherlock sighed. Of course he had to run into a doctor. It was always so hard to explain to doctors and nurses how they could see the blood but absolutely no wounds whatsoever.

"Sherlock, please. But go ahead Dr Watson," Sherlock said. The sooner this was over with the better. When John touched Sherlock cheek it sent a jolt through Sherlock's body. Like something similar to when you get a shock of static electricity whenever you tap metal. Sherlock swayed in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. John noticed Sherlock's swayed. He let go of Sherlock and looked a bit worried. He thought Sherlock would faint or fall over.

"Sherlock, are you really sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"

"No, I'm fine," Sherlock said nonchalantly. "Besides, I live not that far from here."

"Then I will follow there to make sure you are okay." Sherlock just looked at John, surprised by his answer. Why did this man interest him so much? He hadn't known him for long but it still felt like he could trust John with his life. And why had John's touch sent a shock wave through his body? Sherlock had this warm feeling in his gut when he looked at John. But why? It didn't make any sense.

"If you insist, but I can assure you I'm perfectly fine."

oOo

As soon as Lestrade had picked up the bank robber John was on his way with Sherlock to his flat. They sat in silence in a cab. John glared over at Sherlock while he sent a text. There was something about Sherlock John couldn't put his finger on. He seemed a bit mad. After all he had jump off a two story house to catch a bank robber. Okay, perhaps mad was not a good word, perhaps irresponsible was better? What was it with this man that intrigued him so? He didn't even know who Sherlock was and here John was traveling to his flat. It must be John who was the mad one here.

"Okay, you've got questions," Sherlock said and John was jerked out of his thoughts.

"Who are you? What do you do? Are you some type of private detective? But I thought the police don't go to private detectives and you were clearly helping them when you caught the bank robber."

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world, I invented the job."

"A consulting detective? What's that?" John said, looking questioningly at Sherlock.

"When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"But the police don't consult amateurs." John said, a bit frustrated. Sherlock just chuckled.

"Earlier when I said 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' You looked puzzled."

"Yes. How did you know?" John was very eager to know. He was sure had never met Sherlock before in his life.

"I didn't know, I noticed. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself and the way you fought the bank robber says military. You also told me you were a doctor so possibly an army doctor. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists, you've been abroad but not sunbathing. You are also limping and the military wouldn't send someone with a limp to war. Clearly you got wounded in action. So to add it up: Wounded in action, suntan, Afghanistan or Iraq. So as you can see the police don't consult amateurs." Sherlock let out a sigh and looked down preparing himself for John to start to yell at him. But instead John said something unexpected.

"That was amazing." John looked amazed at Sherlock. Sherlock turned and looked surprised at John.

"You think so?"

"Of course it was. It was absolutely extraordinary. Isn't that what people usually say?"

"No, not really."

"What do people normally say then?" John couldn't believe anyone would say anything else.

"Piss off!" John just laughed at what Sherlock just had told him.

"Well, I promise I won't say that." Sherlock just made a quick smile in reply.

oOo

Soon they arrived at Sherlock's flat at 221B Baker Street. When they walked up to the front door John looked up the building.

"You've got a really nice place, it must be expensive." John would never have guessed Sherlock lived in such prime spot in London. Sherlock kept surprising him. First he had told John he was a consulting detective (a pretty good one too) and now this. He wondered if Sherlock had more surprises in store for him.

"Well, Mrs. Hudson the landlady has given me a special deal. She owes me a favour. But I have been thinking of getting a flatmate to ease the rent," Sherlock said.

"Funny, I have been also thinking of getting a flatmate. It's not easy to get a decent flat on an army pension."

"Such coincidence," Sherlock said and smiled to John. "So, shall we?" He unlocked the door and opened it.


	4. A knife through the hand

Soon Sherlock and John entered the flat. It was not what John expected it to be. He had expected it to be more modern. It is what you always expect from a flat where a young man like Sherlock lives. But Sherlock's flat was different. It had a mix of modern and old stuff in the same room. Surprisingly, John liked it.

"I'll just wash off the blood. Make yourself at home," Sherlock said, disappearing to what John presumed was the bathroom.

"Right, okay…" John murmured and walked over to the sofa and sat down. He looked around not really knowing what to do. You always felt so awkward at someone else's place. To John's relieve he noticed a copy of the day's newspaper on the coffee table. As he grabbed it a small pile of books fell over, two of them landed on the floor.

"Shit," John said as he fast picked up the books from the floor. He started to put back together the pile hoping Sherlock wouldn't notice what he had done. When John got to the last book he noticed it wasn't a book at all. It was an old small photo album. The album was dark purple except for the back where the sun had faded the colour. The edges of the pages were golden and so was the lock. It had a Celtic inspired relief and lock. John traced the relief with his finger then he opened the lock. He carefully turned the yellowing pages and looked at the photos. They were really old photos too, by the look of the clothes he would guess early Victorian era. A few pages in John stopped and just stared at the photo in front of him. In the photo he saw a young man in clothes typical of the time. His arms were crossed and he leant against a fake Greek column. This wasn't what struck John the most. It was the fact that the man was a copy of Sherlock, or Sherlock was a copy of him. It was almost scary how alike they were. Like twins or clones. If John hadn't known the album and the photos were old he would had thought it was Sherlock staring back at him.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock said as he entered the living room. John was very quick to shut and put back the photo album where he had found it. Sherlock was wearing a black suit with a white shirt underneath. His face was clean from the blood.

"Sorry, what?" John said and looked up at Sherlock.

"I play the violin then I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"You are asking me to become your flatmate?"  
>"Do you see anyone else in this room I would ask?" Sherlock asked calm and sat down in his arm chair.<p>

"Right… could you let me think about it?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Thank you. Now shall we take a look at your injuries?" John stood up and walked over to examine Sherlock. Sherlock just sighed but remained quiet. To John's surprise he didn't find any injuries at all. How strange. He had seen how Sherlock nose had broken but now it seemed perfectly fine. Sure, it could just be a coincidence but when he examined Sherlock closer he didn't even find one single bruise.

"How is this even possible? You've got no wounds but I clearly saw you get injured."

"Oh didn't I tell you I was immortal? I know you looked took a look at my photo album. And no, that's not just a relative I just happen to look exactly like. It's me about 150 years ago." John just looked shocked at him, not really knowing what to say. Sherlock must be crazy or just had hit his head really hard. No one could be immortal other than superheroes in comic books. But there was the photo. _Oh don't be ridiculous John,_ he thought. _That could easily be faked in Photoshop._

"You want proof?" Sherlock asked when he noticed John's doubt. "Let us get you some proof then." Sherlock got up from his chair. He walked over to the mantelpiece and removed the knife that he used to pin down some letter. Sherlock walked back over to the coffee table. Before John could register what was happening Sherlock slammed the knife through his left hand.

"Bloody hell! Are you out of your mind?" John jerked to his feet. "Now we really need to get you to the hospital."

"You watch and learn," Sherlock said calmly and lifted up his left hand from the table. He had put it there just before he had slammed the knife through it. Sherlock didn't show if he was in any pain. He held up his hand in front of John. The knife was sticking out his palm but as soon has he pulled it out the wound healed immediately. When this happened John let out a sigh of surprise. Sherlock stretched his fingers when the wound was gone.

"How…?" John sank back into the sofa and put his head in his hands. "I must be going mad."

"No you're not. I told you I was immortal. It's my little secret but since we are going to possibly become flatmates I thought it was something you should know." Sherlock said calmly and put back the knife at its usual place.

"I really need some time for think about all this," John stood up and started to walk towards the door. When he got to the door he turned towards Sherlock. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but instead he changed his mind and let it shut again. John turned around and was ready to leave.

"If you accept my offer of sharing the flat, be here at 10 AM tomorrow." Sherlock said to John as he left the flat. Sherlock really hoped John would accept the offer. Then Sherlock would have the opportunity to experiment and study why John gave him this unfamiliar feeling inside.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Funny fact. The old purple album does exist in the real life. It comes from my dad's side of the family. The oldest photo in the album can be traced back to 1860s. Also the photo of Sherlock is based on a photo of my great grandfather's older brother.**


	5. The Mysterious Man

Later that day John was once again walking down the street of London. He still hadn't decided if he would accept Sherlock offer of becoming flatmates. When he came to a corner of a street his phone rang. The display said 'Blocked number'. First John thought of ignoring the call but he changed his mind and answered.

"Hello?" John answered, a bit unsure.

"Walk up to the crossing five meters at your left. As soon as you reach it the lights for the traffic will turn red," a male voice said on the side.

"Sorry, what? Who is this?"

"Walk up to the crossing five meters at your left. As soon as you reach it the lights for the traffic will turn red, _Doctor Watson,_" said the man on the other side calmly. John felt how he got all cold inside. First he had just thought this was some type of prank call but the gravity in the man's voice had told him otherwise. Who was this man and what did he want from John? John felt he should do what this man told him to do. It was something in the man's voice that made John feel like it was a bad idea to question him. As soon as John reached the traffic lights they turned red. _It's just a coincidence,_ John this man he was talking to had nothing to do with this, or?

"Count to ten then the light will turn green. When the traffic starts moving again get in the car."

"What car?" John asked. But when he didn't get any answers he started count to ten. _This is just ridiculous_. But sure enough John started to count .As soon as he was done the lights turned green again. "Now what?"  
>"Get inside the car, Doctor Watson," the mysterious voice said and hung up. Right on cue a black car pulled up in front of John. The door opened for him and he got inside.<p>

oOo

During the car ride John was sitting next to a woman who was typing on her phone. He tried to flirt with her but it didn't go to well. Clearly she was most interested in her phone than him. Soon they arrived to wherever the car was taking them. The car had stopped in front of a tall white building.

"Inside, continue straight towards then to the left to the 'Stranger's Room' " the woman said without looking up from her phone.

"Thanks, I guess" John said and left the car. On his way inside the white building John spotting a sign saying 'The Diogenes Club'. It was very quiet inside. He was about to think the building was empty if John hadn't entered a sitting room. It was full if middle aged men sitting and reading. He continued further inside and soon he found the room he was looking for. A servant stood outside the door waiting for him. He opened the door and let John inside. In the middle of the room sitting in an armchair was one alone man. He was wearing a grey suit. Leaning against the chair stood an umbrella. As soon as the servant had shut the door behind John the mysterious man spoke.

"Have a seat John," the man said as he pointed with an open hand towards the chair opposite. John recognized the voice. This was the man behind the mysterious phone call.

"I'd rather stand. But who the hell are you and what do you want?" John said irritated.

"Let's get straight to the subject," the man said calmly. "What's your connection to Sherlock Holmes?" He poured himself a glass of whisky.

"Why are you interested in Sherlock?" John said. He had no idea who this man was but he was starting to get on John's nerves. He had kidnapped John just to ask a bunch of ridiculous questions.

"Just tell me." The mysterious man took a sip of his drink.

"Well, I helped him catch a bank robber then he asked me to become his flatmate." Most people would be scared in a situation like this but not John. Even if the man was annoying there was nothing about him that scared John, at least not now when he saw him in person.

"And what will you decide in that matter?" the man said as calm as before.

"I don't think that's any of your business," John said, annoyed.

"True, but I just want what's the best for him."

"I think he is old enough to know what the best is for himself."

"Suddenly all this loyalty towards a man you haven't even known for 24 hours." The man put his glass on the small table next to him "Sherlock Holmes has a great secret not even you can imagine."

"I already know his secret. Sherlock told me and then he took a knife and stabbed himself in the hand."

"Oh, he loves to be dramatic," the man said and sighed.

"So are we done here or do you have anything else to say?" John asked  
>"You tell me" the man said and looked at John but John had had enough. He turned and walked towards the door. As he walked he heard the mysterious man talk to him.<p>

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes. He is a dangerous man." The John left the room. When he came out to the street the black car was waiting for him. Next to it stood the woman who didn't even seem to stop looking at her phone.

"I'm here to take you home," she said without looking up on John as he came up to the car. _Good_, John thought. It had been a strange day today, first an immortal consulting detective and then a mysterious man who could control the traffic lights. What next? Would he be abducted by an alien wearing a fez? John got inside the car. The thoughts were spinning in his head. John didn't want anything else than to get home before any more strange things happened to him.


	6. Flatmates

The clock was five minutes to ten in morning when John arrived to Baker Street the next day. After much consideration John had finally decided to accept Sherlock offer. He still hadn't figured out what the mysterious man from yesterday intentions had been but it hadn't intimidated John a bit. Not long after John had knocked on the front door an older lady opened. John presumed it was Mrs Hudson the landlady. She smiled warmly to him as she let him inside. He smiled back to her as his started to climb the stairs to Sherlock flat. No it wasn't Sherlock flat any more, it was John's flat too. John stopped dead in his track when he entered the flat. There, in the arm chair opposite Sherlock sat the Mysterious man from yesterday.  
>"Ah hello John, Seems you took Sherlock offer after all." The mysterious man said and smiled to John.<p>

oOo

Sherlock had waited anxiously for the clock to turn ten. He wasn't sure if John would take his offer. Special not now after Mycroft's little kidnap of John yesterday. Why did Mycroft always have to interfere in his life? Mycroft had arrived at half past nine to Baker Street. He was going to wait with Sherlock for John. He was sure John wouldn't come but still he was a Baker Street. Sherlock really hoped Mycroft was wrong. Sherlock grew more and more anxious as the clock got closer to ten. He was careful not to show Mycroft how he felt. It would only please him too much. Sherlock didn't understand why he felt like this. He had been waiting on people before. So why was John any different? Why could this ordinary man like John affect an extraordinary man like Sherlock? Sherlock heart skipped a beat when he heard he knock on the door downstairs. It must be John, who else would it be at this time? Sherlock he felt the anxiously let go of him as he heard John footsteps in the stairs. A small limp in the walk, yes it was definitely John who walked up the stairs.

oOo

"What are you doing here?" John said irritated to Mycroft. He walked over and sat down in the sofa. _Great._ John thought. _And I who thought I had seen the last of this clown._

"Perhaps I should introduce myself." Mycroft said calmly "I'm Mycroft Holmes"

"Holmes? Are you like Sherlock brother or something? It wouldn't surprise me. Now when I think about it you two are quite alike" John said. Sherlock grunted in response. Grunted for the idea that someone thought they were brothers.

"If it only had been that simple" Mycroft said.

"Mycroft is my great grandson" Sherlock said calmly.

"Correct" Mycroft agreed.

"What?" John said shocked. He certainly hadn't expected that.

"Perhaps we should stop shocking poor John here before he gets a heart attack." Mycroft said to Sherlock.

"No, no I'm fine. It's just…well if you excuse me for saying this but you Sherlock doesn't seem to be a man that would have a wife and a child, ever. "

"I couldn't agree more with you John."

"Wait what? Seriously?" John looked puzzled on Sherlock.

"Yes. A few years before I got immortal my family thought it was a good idea for me to marry a woman for a good family. I had little to say in this matter like many had in that time. So I did my duty. I married her and produced an heir"

"And for that the Holmes family is grateful"

"Well I'm not." Sherlock snapped irritated "They always, like yourself, has a gift to interfere my life. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You know that's not possible now with your gift. The family just wants to make sure your secret is safe Sherlock and you know that very well." Mycroft said calmly.

"In other words: They are my babysitters" Sherlock said grumpy.

"Well you aren't to careful yourself keeping it a secret." Sherlock sighed.

"It's boring being careful" Mycroft's features tensed as a response to Sherlock's reckless comment.

"We noticed that when you almost got kidnapped by the American government. You know they would love to do experiments on you."

"But they didn't succeed did they?" Sherlock snapped irritated to Mycroft. John could listen to this two men squabble all day long but he soon he realised it would be better if he put an end to it, before it turned ugly.

"All right you two calm down" Sherlock and Mycroft turned and looked on John. John felt their intense gaze on him. "Don't worry your secret is safe with me."

"I really hope that" Mycroft said. John nodded. In the tone of Mycroft's voice and the cold look in his face John knew Mycroft meant business.

"Mycroft don't be rude to my flatmate. You know as well as me that John won't do that. Beside why are you still here? Don't you have anything more important to do than scare to John and interfere in my life?" Sherlock had put his fingertips together. He looked serious on Mycroft. Mycroft sighed. As he stood up he took out his pocket watch and looked at it.

"Perhaps I should be on my way." He put back his watch in the pocket.

"The most intelligent thing you have said all morning" Mycroft's eyes narrowed then he took out his phone. John turned to Sherlock.

"I need to get to my old flat and get my stuff. They are already packed in boxes and I just need to pick it up."

"That's already taken care of. They will be here in ten minutes" Mycroft said and put back his phone. "No need to thank me. Good Day" Mycroft nodded to them then he left the flat. John looked as Mycroft left the flat then he turned to Sherlock with surprised looked.

"He… but how?" John didn't really know what to say.

"Yes he is always like this but you will get use to it, I hope." Sherlock sighed. "Let's drink some tea while we wait for you things to arrive." Sherlock stood up and disappeared into the kitchen.


	7. Jack the Ripper

Sherlock returned from the kitchen with two cups of tea. He handed one over to John then sat down in his arm chair.

"So how does all this work, I mean with you being immortal? You said 'A few years before I got immortal'. So you haven't always been immortal then?" John asked Sherlock. Sherlock blew on his tea to cool it.

"No I was once mortal like everyone else. Then, when I was in my 30s back in the 1820s I got curse." Sherlock took a sip of his tea.

"If you have been immortal since the 1820s and you are a consulting detective, why haven't you solved the Jack the Ripper case? It would be a perfect case for you." John drank some of his tea.

"Who said I didn't solve it?" Sherlock said and grinned.  
>"You solved it?" John said, surprised. "Why don't the history books say anything about it? Everywhere I have read around it says it the Ripper case remained unsolved."<p>

"I was so close to catching the killer when the imbecile to police force locked me up as a suspect. Apparently I showed too much knowledge and interest in the case. When I finally got out the murderer had fled to America. Damn, I was so close to catch him. And when I finally got to America he had died of an illness. The Ripper case is one of few cases that have been a failure for me."

"Why haven't I heard about this before?" John asked.

"My family has always had a gift of being about to clean up after me. They didn't want the Holmes name to be associated with Jack the Ripper. Especially when I didn't catch him" Sherlock sighed. John decided to change subject, clearly Sherlock didn't like to be reminded of his failure.

"So can your curse get broken or will you be immortal for all eternity?" John asked. He was very intrigued by Sherlock being immortal now when the shock was over. After all John was a doctor so he had treated many people and here was Sherlock, a man that could heal is own wounds no matter how bad they were.

"The curse will break when I find the love of my life. Before that I won't be able to grow old and die or get injured for that matter." John was going to ask more questions but he got interrupted by a knock on the door to the flat. It was the landlady Mrs Hudson.

"I presume you took Sherlock's offer then?" she said and smiled warmly at John.

"Yes I did," John smiled back to her.

"How nice. There's another bedroom upstairs if you will be needing that." John almost choked on his tea. Mrs Hudson didn't notice it so she continued talking "I'll come back later and talk about the rent," she said and then left the flat.

"What does she mean with 'There's another bedroom upstairs if you will be needing that'?" John asked Sherlock when he and stopped coughing on his tea.

"I don't know," Sherlock said and shrugged. "Mrs Hudson is a nice old lady. I have known here since she was in her late 20s. She is one of the few knowing my secret." In that moment the doorbell rung and soon they heard Mrs Hudson shout.

"John, your things are here!"

"Let's get you moved in, shall we?" Sherlock said. He put down his cup, got up and run downstairs to get John's stuff. He couldn't wait until John was fully moved in.

oOo

Over the weeks that passed Sherlock and John enjoyed each other's company more and more. Sure they had a few arguments but they always solved themselves. They had also solved a few cases together, Sherlock and John where the perfect team. Well, to be precise, Sherlock solved the cases and John blogged about them. To Sherlock's annoyance, he still hadn't found out what caused the strange feelings inside of him, but he had noticed they grew stronger if he was close to John. The feeling grew even stronger if they accidently touched. Some nights Sherlock dreamt about John. He didn't remember what the dreams had been all about but then I woke up he was all sweaty and rock hard. It was so odd. What did it all mean? Then one day, a month after Sherlock and John had met, Sherlock got an idea.

He was lying on the sofa, bored and John was reading the newspaper when Sherlock suddenly spoke.

"John, how does it feel to be in love?" John glared up on Sherlock from his paper.

"Uhm…how it always feels I guess."

"And how is that? How does it feel to be in love?" Sherlock looked up at the roof.

"You… you don't know that? Have you never been in love?" John said surprised. Sherlock sighed  
>"No. I know how it is chemical but nothing more than that. So can you please illuminate me on the subject?"<p>

"Well…" John put the newspaper on the table. "First of all you have this strange feeling in your guts. Most people would use the expression 'butterflies in your stomach'. You feel all warm inside when you are near the person. Sometimes it sends a shockwave through your body if you accidently touch. " Sherlock's eyes widened. John had just put into words what he felt. Sherlock just realized: he was in love with John! Sherlock, this extraordinary man, was in love with John? He must put his theory to the test. Sherlock spun around and soon he was on his feet. John looked surprisedly at him while Sherlock took the few steps towards him in his chair.

"What's the matter, Sherlock? Did I say something wrong? If that's the case I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Hush now John, I have a theory to test," Sherlock said with a low voice as he bent towards John. John didn't move he just looked puzzledly at Sherlock. Sherlock's heart was racing as the gap between his and John's lips got smaller and smaller.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oooh this is getting rather fun ;)**


	8. The Chop Shop

Everything seemed to go as planed as Sherlock's lips got closer to John's. Soon he would have him answer. It was only a few centimetres left until their lips would meet when he felt John's hands on his chest and John pushed him out of his way. As Sherlock took a few steps backwards John walked past him and into the kitchen. It took a few seconds for Sherlock's mind to catch up with what had just happened, then Sherlock followed after John but he stopped in the doorway as his saw John's expression. It was a mix of shock and confusion. Not exactly the expression Sherlock had hoped for. A shiver went through Sherlock's body. What if his attempt of finding the truth just pushed him further away from John? What if John didn't love him as much as Sherlock loved him?  
>"John I…." Sherlock didn't really know what to say, worried that he would say the wrong things.<p>

"Sherlock please." John said sad and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "Can you leave me alone for a while?" He was leaning against the kitchen sink. Sherlock was going to object but realized it wouldn't be any good idea.

"As you wish" he said and walked back to the sofa. Sherlock made a sad sigh as he lay down. The gypsy woman should be really pleased with herself. Finally it had really turned out to be a curse for Sherlock. John must be the love of his life. What else would he be? Sherlock had never felt like this before for anyone. But if John didn't love him back the curse wouldn't be broken and Sherlock was doomed to walk this world alone for all eternity. For the first time Sherlock wished he wasn't immortal. A life without John didn't sound so appealing to couldn't he just have died like everyone else? Feelings like this hurt so much. He was sure the gypsy woman knew this would happen and he bet he deserved it every moment of it.

oOo

Fifteen long minutes past then silence which had been broke by Sherlock's phone ringing. Sherlock reached out for him phone on the coffee table next to him. It was Lestrade. Good, Sherlock needed a new case that could distract him from his own feelings.

"Well hello Lestrade. What can I do for you?" You could hear him grinning as he spoke.

"We or to be precise I need your assistants down here at this Chop shop. I need your help with some suspects. Can you help?"

"Sure Lestrade. Text me the address and I'll be on my way" Even though Sherlock normally wouldn't take a simple case like this he was happy get anything that could distract him at the moment. He hung up and stood up. Sherlock looked toward the kitchen door. He sighed. John had neither spoken nor moved other course of the fifteen minutes. Sherlock walked with heavy steps towards the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and knocked on the doorframe. John had been so deep in thoughts that he jumped by the knock. He turned and looked on Sherlock.

"Lestrade called. He needs us for a case. Will you come?" Sherlock asked. He was worried John would refused to talk to him ever again

"Yes, of course" he said with a neutral expression. John walked past Sherlock and got his coat. Sherlock made a low sigh of relief. At least John didn't hate him. That was a good thing. Sherlock went and got his coat then they were on their way to Lestrade and the chop shop.

oOo

Sherlock and John arrived at the garage after a silence taxi ride. Lestrade awaited them outside the building. The chop shop was part of an old factory complex located outside the city of London. On the outside it looked like your averaged abandoned factory but that was just a disguise from what was hidden inside.

"I'm glad you could arrive so quickly." Lestrade said when he met up with Sherlock and John

"Skip the courtesies Lestrade and give me details."

"Right forgive me… We believe this garage is the main hub of a large scaled chop shop organization that runs in London. We have a few suspects but we can't tie them to this garage. I had hopped we would caught some of suspects in action but when we arrived the garage was empty. Someone must had tipped them off."

"And now you need my help to find the evidence to tie them to the garage because you believe your forensic team has, like always, missed something" Sherlock said.

"Correct" Sherlock rolled his eyes. He had really hoped Lestrade had had any harder case for him but since he would only use it as a distraction he would let it past.

"I'll see what I can do" Sherlock said to Lestrade then he turned to John. "Come on John" Sherlock and John entered the garage. Lestrade stayed outside, he knew Sherlock would like to have some time on his own at the crime scene. Sherlock on the other hand was much more interested in John than the crime scene. Tying suspects to the garage was something he could do in his sleep. Sherlock noticed John was a bit tense when he walked next to Sherlock inside the garage. Usual Sherlock would enjoy the silence from John but now it was nerve wracking. He needed to break the silence between them. Sherlock and John entered a parking place in the far end of the garage. It was filled with finished cars or at least it had been. It stood only five cars in the far corner of the hall that had room for at least ten more cars. They walked to the middle of the room. Sherlock looked around. "There is nothing here but cars. They can't help me. Let's go." John nodded then he and Sherlock turned back towards the door. As they were about to start walking they heard movement behind them.

"Stay where ya're at" A male voice said and then a click of a gun was short followed. Sherlock and John gave each other a quick look then they turned toward the man with the gun and possible the danger that awaited them.


	9. A teen with a gun

A teenager in the age around fifteen pointed the gun towards them. His jeans and previously white t-shirt was covered in oil stains from when he had been working on the cars. By the uncertainty in the teenager's green eyes and small trembling of his oil stained hands Sherlock deduced that he had only been given the gun and told to stay guard. It didn't seem he had ever held a gun before either. Adding this to that the teenager didn't really know what do when he was faced with a pair of intruders made him made him even more dangerous. He was unpredictable in his actions. Normally Sherlock wouldn't care. Even if he got shot his immortality would save him. But now Sherlock couldn't stop thinking of how he would get John out this danger. Neither of them had any guns and if John got shot Sherlock would never forgive himself. Sure John had been in the army but that didn't make Sherlock less worried about him.

"Who the hell are ya and want do ya want?" The teen asked and shifted the gun between Sherlock and John.

"We were just going to take a look," Sherlock started, "We thought the garage was empty…"

"Liar! Tell me the truth," the teen shouted. Sherlock gulped anxiously. The gun was pointed dangerously towards John.

"I would tell you if you didn't insist on pointing the gun toward us. It's not very polite." Sherlock really had to struggle to sound calm.

"No." The teen kept the gun pointing towards them, or to be precise towards John. In was in that moment they heard a sound to their left. The teen got distracted and turned towards it. It was then Sherlock saw his opportunity. He leaped towards the teen and it was in this tumult the gun went off.

oOo

Next thing John remembered was that he saw the teenager running out of the hall. He checked himself quickly for wounds when he heard a moan from the floor. Where the teenager had stood lay Sherlock on his back, he was bleeding from a wound in his left side.

"Sherlock!" John run over to him and knelt next to Sherlock.

"John, are you hurt?" Sherlock said and looked at John who was busy with Sherlock's wound.

"No I'm fine, don't worry." John took of his coat and tied it around Sherlock's waist to put pressure on the wound. Sherlock was losing blood fast. John moved over to the right of Sherlock's head level and put Sherlock's head in his lap. John wasn't worried because he knew Sherlock would soon heal but when it had past almost 30 seconds and nothing had happened he felt the anxiety creep over him.

"Sherlock, you're not healing!" John looked down worried for Sherlock. Sherlock just gave him a faint smile.

"Sherlock, this is not the time for smiling," John said, annoyed. Sherlock always had a gift of picking the most inappropriate times to say or do something.

"John, don't you see? The curse is broken. _You_ broke it." Sherlock moved up his left hand and cupped John's face. Sherlock's thumb stroked John's cheek.

"I love you, John, and you have given me the greatest gift ever." Sherlock smiled up to John. John smiled back and put his hand on top of Sherlock's.

"I never knew I would ever say this but, I love you too Sherlock. I'm sorry I pushed you away earlier I just got overwhelmed by my own feelings. I needed some time to gather my thoughts. I didn't even know if you would love me back. I mean why would you? You're extraordinary while I'm…well ordinary."

"No John you're wrong…" Sherlock said in a low voice. "You're not even close to being ordinary." John leaned towards to kiss Sherlock. Oh how he had yearned for this. Closer and closer but when their lips was only a couple centimeters away John saw how Sherlock's eyes rolled inwards in his head and he got all limp.

"Sherlock?" he said low and checked Sherlock pulse. Nothing. "Sherlock no, don't do this to me!" John yelled as his tears started to stream down his face. He lay down Sherlock flat on the floor and started to do CPR. He refused to let Sherlock die.

"Don't you dare die on me! I won't let you. Not now!" he said in a mix of anger and sadness. Everything around himself and Sherlock became a blur. The only thing John was focusing on was to get Sherlock back to life. John kelp on doing CPR but if felt a bit odd doing the mouth–to-mouth. Not that John didn't want to kiss Sherlock, it was just the wrong way to do it. He wanted Sherlock to kiss him back. Finally after two minutes, John's hard work paid off. He could feel a faint pulse but that was it. Sherlock was still unconscious. John made a sigh of relief. The danger wasn't over but at least Sherlock showed some life signs. John put Sherlock in the recovery position to make sure he could breathe. He was about to take put his phone when Lestrade entered the hall.

"We heard a gunshot…"Lestrade stopped as he noticed the big blood pool underneath Sherlock. Lestrade knew about Sherlock's immortality he had seen it in action a few times but when he saw the blood he knew something was terribly wrong. He walked over to Sherlock and John.

"Is he dead?" Lestrade asked worried.

"No, but his pulse is weak. We need to get him to the hospital" John looked up at Lestrade, his eyes were all red and face wet after the tears.

"Right," Lestrade took up his phone and called for an ambulance. As they waited for the ambulance John kept on checking Sherlock to make sure the pulse was still there. He was prepared to start doing CPR at any moment if needed. If felt like hours until the ambulance finally arrived. The paramedics wasted no time loading Sherlock. During the ride John kept on holding Sherlock's hand. Without bothering about who saw John lean towards and kissed Sherlock pale forehead and whispered:

"It's going to be all right I promise. I love you, Sherlock."


	10. Now and forever

The next thing Sherlock remembered was hearing the beeping of the ECG. First he didn't remember what had happened, then the memories washed over him like a wave. Case, chop shop, gun, shoot, blood, John. John! Where was John, he needed to find him. Sherlock opened his eyes but he got blinded by the bright lights. The first thing Sherlock saw when his eyes got used to the light was the white ceiling. Sherlock tried to move but his wound started to protest loudly. He stopped moving and took a deep breath. When the pain had decreased he felt something gently pressing around his right hand. Sherlock carefully sat up in his bed. There asleep in a chair sat John holding Sherlock's hand. Sherlock couldn't help but smile. By the state of John clothes it clearly told Sherlock John hadn't left his side for a second. Sherlock tighten his grip around John's hand and started to stroke it with his thumb. In that moment Sherlock heard John's breathing start to change, John was waking up. Sure enough John opened his eyes. He blinked his tired eyes one more time then he looked towards Sherlock.

"Hello John" Sherlock said with a rugged voice and smiled to him. John rose to his feet.

"Sherlock, you're awake." A big smile spread across his face.

"Clearly. You didn't think you would get rid of me that…" Sherlock didn't have time to finish then sentence before he felt John's lips on his own. First Sherlock was taken by surprise by John's actions but when his mind caught up with his body he just smiled and kissed John back. It was a soft and quick kiss and Sherlock hated it was over. John stood up. He smiled as he looked down at Sherlock holding his hand.

"Judging from the lengths of your beard stubble I would guess I have been asleep approximately for 24 hours."

"But it felt like weeks," John said.

"I thought I died."

"Technically speaking, you were dead for two minutes but I kept doing CPR until I felt your pulse."

"What if you never would have had felt a pulse?" Sherlock got a lump in his throat. The thought of being dead and leaving John behind scared Sherlock.

"That was never an option. I refused to let you die"

"Oh, John," Sherlock said low and pulled John down for a kiss. He felt so moved by John's words. John was now sitting next to Sherlock on his bed. It wasn't a comfortable position but John didn't really care. As John deepened the kiss he pulled Sherlock closer. Sherlock's wound complained by this action and he grunted in pain.

"Careful, I'm a mortal man now," Sherlock said teasingly. John just chuckled and pulled Sherlock in for another kiss. Sherlock didn't care about the pain. John was the only thing he cared about right now.

oOo

About five minutes later they heard someone clear their throat. Sherlock and John broke the kiss and looked towards the sound. There in the doorway stood Mycroft. John blushed a little. He got up from Sherlock's bed and sat down in the chair next to it.

"I was going to wait until you were done," Mycroft entered the room, "But it didn't take me long to realize you were stuck on loop." Sherlock eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock snapped. Couldn't Sherlock even get some time alone with John without Mycroft ruining it? Sherlock was just going to explore the unknown reason why his hand had found its way underneath John's jumper.

"I'm just here to show mine and the family's concern for you. After all you got shot then you where unconscious for about a day."

"Yes but I'm fine now." Sherlock eyes wandered towards John. _I'm more than fine._ He thought. Then he turned back to Mycroft. "Please inform our family that the curse is broken. So they don't need to worry about me anymore. If you excuse me, I'm tired. Please leave."

"Our family will always be worried about you, but I'll tell them." Without saying goodbye Mycroft left the room.

"Are you really tired or what is just something you said to make Mycroft leave?" John asked.

"Both," Sherlock yawned, his eyes felt heavy.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

"I'm sure you will." Sherlock closed his eyes. As he was drifting away to the dreamland Sherlock felt John's lips on his own. With a smile on his lips he fell asleep.

A week after being shot Sherlock left the hospital. He was glad to leave. It had been hell to share ward with other patients. People could be so annoying. Sherlock had very kindly asked Mycroft to get his own room but for some reason Mycroft had refused. The same evening Sherlock had returned home he and John made love for the first time. Sherlock knew he had never been happier.

oOo

_Epilogue_

A few days after the return home, John was going through some of his boxes with old stuff that had been standing furthest in his closet. He was moving out from the bedroom upstairs down to Sherlock's. John wasn't sure what was tucked away in some of the boxes. Perhaps he found something he could get rid of. In the second box he found an old photo album. It had a torn brown leather cover with a relief with three sunflowers. It was the old Watson family's photo album which had been past down to the oldest son for generations. John got up from the floor where he had been sitting. He wanted to show Sherlock he wasn't the only one with an old family history. Sherlock was sitting in the sofa reading some case files Lestrade had giving him when John entered the living room

"I found my family's old photo album," he held it out towards Sherlock. "It's as old as yours and I thought you might you recognize someone," John said a bit sarcastically. Sherlock looked up at John and he took the album.

"John, please," Sherlock rolled his eyes as he started to turn the pages in the album. The photos were indeed old. "I highly doubt I would …" Sherlock stopped in a middle of a sentence when his eyes fell of what seemed to the oldest photo in the album. Staring back at him were the gypsy woman and her granddaughter but not as he remembered them. Both were dressed in beautiful dresses. Not in rags like the day he had met them. The older woman sat in a chair with the granddaughter standing next to her.

"Who… who is this?" Sherlock showed the photo to John. John was sitting in his chair relaxing after he had been moving and cleaning in his old room the entire morning.

"If I'm not wrong the young woman is my grandfather's grandmother Ruby with her grandmother." Sherlock stared chocked on the photo. He couldn't believe that the woman who cursed him as a distant relative of John's.

"Can you tell me more about them?"  
>"I don't know so much about them. I know Ruby was married to my great-great grandfather Henry Watson. My cousin, who is a genealogist, found out they got eight kids and six of them reached adulthood."<p>

"And Ruby's grandmother? Do know anything about her?"

"Sadly no. Why are you so interested in them? Have you met them before?" John stood up and walked over to Sherlock.

"I…" First Sherlock was going to tell John that he had met them before but then he decided not to. It didn't matter who John was related to. He loved John for who he was. Sherlock couldn't help but smile. He found it so ironic. When the gypsy woman cursed him she couldn't possibly have known that her curse would be broken by her own relative. Sherlock shut the album and put it away. Then he pulled down John to sit in his lap and wrapped his arms around him

"It doesn't matter anymore." Sherlock smiled to John "I'm not interested in my past anymore. Right now I'm only interested in my present." Sherlock pulled in John for a tender kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did you like my funny little twist at the end? ;) So this was the end. I had so much fun writing this. Thank you all for all faves/alerts and reviews. :D If you want to know more about upcoming fics and/or previews check out my Tumblr (username on my profile). :)**


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